


Stay With Me

by d6dreams (staticfiction)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Contemporary Royals AU, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Soft Younghyun, Young K is A Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticfiction/pseuds/d6dreams
Summary: What happens when you dress up as a bride on Halloween? You get a real live Prince, apparently.





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaemibbeom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemibbeom/gifts).

> Is a mess. Enter at your own risk.

My most convincing fake smile is firmly on my face even before the doors open and the cameras start flashing. Next to me, Younghyun takes a deep breath. This routine isn’t new. Both of us have to steel our nerves like this before we step out into the public light. Tonight is no different. If anything, more is at stake tonight with the success of the Royal Gala and, incidentally, the benefit for the underprivileged children hanging on the line.

Younghyun offers me his arm, and I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow. His warmth brings me no solace and the cool wintery scent of his cologne remains distant to me. Distant as his eyes and his smile that is so perfectly curated, only standing this close next to him offers me clarity and perspective.

“Are you ready?” he asks, tilting his head every so slightly and flashing the slightest hint of a genuine smile. His other hand comes to my hand on his arm to steady my shaking.

“I can never get used to this,” I confess. My voice sounds breathless, and I only have about half a minute to conjure strength I do not feel.

“Some might consider that a good thing.” There is something else in his eyes. Something I can’t quite read. Something that bores into my defences and settles uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. “Just stay with me,” he whispers.

I look down at our hands on his arm. My hand. At the ring on my fourth finger. Part family heirloom and part custom-made, of course. Nothing less. With diamond sidestones on a platinum band centering an ultra-rare pink sapphire, the ring is worth more than I will ever see in my lifetime. From a distance, it almost looks understated with its sleek silhouette and simple lines. One might even be fooled to believe that it almost looks as if it belongs on my finger.

But Younghyun and I both know it does not.

“Until someone steals me away.” I go for levity because it’s my only coping mechanism that is appropriate for the situation.

“Let’s hope not.” He leans forward and speaks to me in a low voice. The expression on his face is almost funny if we were in some other life and not the people we are today. Cute, even. “That would not be good. No, not good at all.”

I know he knows what I mean, but I can’t help the quip that leaves my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll find my way back to you.”

His eyes fall on mine and, in that split-second moment of contact, the Arts Center falls away, all of society on the other side of the door disappear, and it’s Younghyun and I alone. He really is handsome. Unfairly, and inhumanly, so. Everything about him is cast from perfection. High cheekbones, angular jaw, and his dark sweep of hair—sharp features and an even sharper gaze through those feline eyes. His posture carries an air of command that hovers around him and fills the room. He was born into this. Bred into becoming the man that he is. A whole world away from mine. Always too far to reach.

But everyone has flaws, and I don’t just mean the imperfection on the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.” He rubs circles on my hand. Gives it a gentle squeeze. “This is it. Don’t worry. Just tell me what you need.”

I reach over and cover his larger hand with mine. “It’s okay, Younghyun,” I whisper, assuredly. Despite my nerves, I am filled with a sense of purpose that overrides the anxiousness. I attempt a real smile. “I got you.”

My eyes are on the ornate door as it opens from the other side. Younghyun is announced, as am I though almost as an afterthought. Just as well. Easier to be forgotten that way. My smile holds as the lights scrape against my eyes. Younghyun leads me down the ballroom through my temporary blindness, my hand on his arm my literal lifeline through the crowd of reporters and servers and guests less important than him. 

Four months into this engagement, and I’ve just about had enough. Tonight, I will give Younghyun his ring back and call everything off. Consequences be damned. I don’t care if he is the Crown Prince. I can no longer justify the cost of this fight to maintain my person and my sanity.

I want my life back. And the only way I can get my life—and my heart—back is to break this engagement.

For my sake.

And Younghyun’s.

The engagement was dissolved months ago, but the deposit on the dress was nonrefundable. So the morning of Halloween, when the package was called in by the doorman, it wasn’t exactly surprise that hit me when I signed the digital receipt forms. It wasn’t regret either. I would call it a superficial anger that curled just beneath my skin over a matter one might consider trivial in context.

But I am a petty bitch who loves drama, so my ex-fiancé can Suck It.

“Why are you dressed like a bride?”

I arrange the layers upon layers upon layers of tulle on my pristine white ballgown before I raise my eyes to settle a cool glare against my first detractor. Behind me, the taxi speeds away in a rush that seems unequal to the situation. “Why are you dressed like a reverend?”

Jeongyeon shrugs and shakes her head at me. As though I’m the one who doesn’t Get It. She straightens the collar on her cassock and puffs her chest. “I thought you were going as Existential Ennui.”

“Everyone is going as Existential Ennui if you look hard enough.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now let’s go murder someone in this dress. The universe owes me one.”

With our arms linked, we enter the traditional village area for the night’s attraction. Jeongyeon got us into the guest list of this exclusive party, allegedly thrown by one, or two, sons of a Royal House but no one is denying nor confirming that or even saying which ones. It doesn’t matter. Jeongyeon and I are here for the open bar and the fancy snacks, and a taste of how the other side lives before we go back to our regular lives in the morning.

According to the rumours, every year one of the sons of the Royal Houses throws a Halloween party. The location is always disclosed and the guest list is ultra exclusive, getting in requires some level of importance or favours owed. It has become mythological in reputation. Looking up at the road ahead, you won’t think anything is happening tonight, but once you pass the third block into the sweeping hills at the edge of the city, you see it then.

“How did you get us in?” I ask. I’m only just a little bit breathless because it’s a heavy ballgown not made for walks up and down slopes of the middle of nowhere. I hold on to Jeongyeon a little tighter because I don’t want to trip and roll all the way back down. Not because I’m scared or anything.

“Remember that job we did for the UN?” Jeongyeon and I were part of a team of human rights lawyers that helped displaced and underprivileged children. “With Lady Jihyo? She said we did such a good job, we deserve a little something nice.”

“Thank you, Lady Jihyo,” I utter in quiet reverence. I remember the Lady Jihyo fondly, and wish her well. We don’t usually have brushes with royalty like this, but I am thankful that our limited experience has been with those sympathetic to those far less privileged than they.

When we finally get to the gate, Jeongyeon and I hold our breaths in that little freeze frame of time that the gatekeeper checks his list for our names. We hold ourselves a little taller, smile a little friendlier, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. After another moment, he walks us through security and lets us through, and we giggle through our nerves.

Aside from the lanterns we were given upon entry, the village is dark. It’s cold and a little wet from the rain, but nothing too uncomfortable. “What are we supposed to do?” I ask, shining a light in a semi-circle around us.

“Look, I was told to just show up,” Jeongyeon answers, not the least bit bothered or afraid. She pulls me by the hand. “Come on. Let’s find this party.”

We walk a little further up and, past the big house with about fifty clay jars out front, we start to hear the faint rock music playing from the speakers, and follow the sound. When we get there, past the courtyard and into the wide sweeping gardens, the sight that welcomes us is nothing short of shocking.

“Is that?”

Jeongyeon doesn’t need to finish that thought because I see it, too. Royalty, celebrities, pop stars, and heirs and heiresses—this side of the fence parties hard. On stage is a band, all of them in costume, going even harder and making mad sweet love to their instruments. It’s a scene straight out of the best kind of manhwa, and Jeongyeon and I huddle together to keep ourselves from squealing. Content with being flies on the wall, we settle near the back and enjoy the free flowing drinks and scary-themed food. I err on the side of caution, taking it easy on the cocktails and shots because I have work early tomorrow. Jeongyeon has stronger intestinal fortitude than I do, so she goes through the tray without much of a worry or a care. By the end of the night, we’ve seen what we never thought we would ever see, and heard what we never thought we would ever hear. Before the paparazzi or the authorities came storming in, Jeongyeon and I make like Cinderella and exit stage left.

We realize the error of our ways when, just as the night is retreating into the morning, Jeongyeon and I decide to make our way home and there is no way home. Not without walking all the way back to whatever is closest to civilization. No wonder the taxi driver from last night kept looking at me weird. He must have thought I really was going out for murder.

“At least one of us is sober,” Jeongyeon hiccups as I drag her out of the traditional village before all the other society kids decide the night is over.

“What are the chances one of these rich kids will have a heart of gold and give us a ride downtown?”

Jeongyeon makes a sound I can’t interpret.

“Right. You’re absolutely right.”

While I don’t carry any prejudice against the side of society that lives in privilege and wealth, I don’t like the idea of taking my chances with them. Jeongyeon and I make it a couple of blocks down before giving up. The only other hospitable respite this early in the dawn—it’s not even sunrise yet—is the small church down the end of the road. The irony is not lost on me as I drag my friend all the way inside and deposit her on a pew.

I thought I’ll be walking down the aisle a few days from now, but Life it seemed had other plans. There’s no point crying over spilled milk, and it feels so long ago and even longer in the making. But still. It stings. Wherever my ex-fiance is now, I hope he’s doing about as well as a canary in a coal mine.

Then I hear it. The sound of car tires screeching, rushing footsteps, and the sound of the church doors swinging open then shutting closed. I don’t even have time to process that, because one moment I’m looking at the slit of light from the entrance and the next I’m staring straight into the eyes of the impossible. I blink, but there the image remains.

That’s when Jeongyeon decides she’s not that drunk to pass out just yet. She climbs all the way up, just in front of the pulpit. I don’t consider myself particularly devout, but there feels something sacrilegious about this in a way that I can’t have predicted.

“We are gathered here today,” she announces to the empty—almost empty—church. Why is this church empty? Isn’t there supposed to always be someone inside? No? “To celebrate our dearest friends as they join their hands in holy matrimony.”

I turn toward the other person in the room to apologize, but I am arrested at the sight of his cocky grin and his even cockier expression. I’m still hoping I’m hallucinating, but reality is slowly sinking in and the dread hollows out my stomach.

“You know who I am?” His rich, silky voice glides through me like sweet syrup. I can almost taste the sweet stickiness on my tongue. Can almost see the image of my tongue licking off that same syrup off golden skin.

I choke.

My stress response is to curtsy before reminding myself that’s not the proper way of addressing those whose stature are far beyond mine. A go for a polite bow instead. “Everyone knows who you are.”

He tilts his head, and I almost think there’s a real live boy, flesh-and-blood, in there somewhere. “You know me so it’s only fair I know who you are. Don’t you think?”

“I’m no one important.” I smile in an attempt not to look like a weirdo.

But not looking like a fool is a difficult thing to do when one is standing in front of the Crown Prince whilst wearing a monstrosity of a wedding gown. In my defense, my would-have-been mother-in-law designed the gown. I think she low-key hated me, hence the bows, rhinestones, and the unnecessary lace. Perhaps I may have dodged a bullet after all.

“Is your friend okay?” he asks, seemingly holding back a smile. I remember seeing the prince on magazine covers and all over the internet, and he’s often sporting an enigmatic smile. Is that all for show?

“She’s fine,” I answer. “A little tipsy.” I can’t tell if he’s trying to figure out what the deal is behind this dress and Jeongyeon’s costume, but he seems to be enjoying himself. “I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”

It’s not often one runs into The Crown Prince, even rarer, nearing impossible that he is ever alone. In the middle of nowhere. Where was his security detail? How did he even get here?

Can it be? Was he at the party too?

The Prince flexes his hand and massages it with the other. Long, slender fingers distract me for a moment, but I manage to pull my attention back to the slope of his neck. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Jeongyeon trails off, waiting for a response from her imaginary audience.

The Prince’s demeanour shifts from mildly amused to starkly alert. I hear it, too. The rattling of the doors is followed by hushed whispers. I stare in horror as the doors are pushed open.

Everything becomes a whirlwind after that.

Next thing I know, cameras are flashing in my face, I have the lapels of a very expensive coat clutched in my hands, and I am pressed chest to chest with the Crown Prince.

Exactly the man the news outlets want to see in compromising situations.

Exactly the man I don’t need to be seen with if I intend to live a full life beholden to no one.

His strong arms are around me. Tight. One of his hands is holding my shoulder firmly against him while the other is protectively shielding my face by hiding it safely against his firm chest. There are no other sounds except the beating of his heart. I suppose he is a Real Live Boy after all.

Being caught in such a position may as well be the end of my career and I have so much I want to do with my life. I’ll forever be known as the girl who got caught with the Prince. And while that might sound like a fairy tale for some, it’s a nightmare for me. I still have so many plans, falling in love included. For real this time, not the kind of love I thought I had with my ex-fiance. But all that is fading right before my eyes. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

The whirlwind ends when I find myself inside the backseat of a limousine, and I’m deposited into lush leather seats. I’m too dumbfounded to even speak. The Prince just runs his hands through his hair and breathes heavily. Once all the doors are closed, we’re on our way.

“Jeongyeon!”

“You have nothing to worry about, Miss,” says someone on the passenger side seat beyond the limo screen. It’s a distinct accent and a very gruff voice. Rough, but oddly comforting. “We’ve got someone making sure she’s safe.”

“That’s my bodyguard,” The Prince says, his expression unreadable. “You can call him Sungjin. He’s the best, so if he’s says everything’s under control then everything’s under control.”

I wave awkwardly at Sungjin who isn’t even looking at us. There’s a weird tension inside the vehicle, and I’m pretty sure it’s not my fault. Nonetheless, it’s slowly sinking in that the people who had barged in on us were the paparazzi and who knew what they are saying about us right now. I bend over and hold my head between my knees.

“What’s your name?” The Prince asks. There’s a softness there I don’t dwell on.

I tell him. I’m not sure where to look or what to say, so I keep myself as small as possible and avoid his general direction. At least my gown has several details to keep me interested, and I busy my hands by running them down the lace and the tulle and untangling the bows.

“Well,” he breathes out a heavy sigh. Even that doesn’t at all seem ragged. Everything about him is held together with a merciless precision. “That happened.”

He calls out my name.

I look up.

Our eyes meet.

“You understand what just happened right now?”

At the expense of sounding like an unsophisticated fool, I answer, “Something really bad?”

“Something really bad.”

I attempt a way out. “Maybe they didn’t get my face? Maybe they were too blinded by my outfit, no one was paying attention? You could just drop me off somewhere, I’ll be fine.”

“In that dress?”

“I could leave it behind.”

“And have you walk around in what? Your underthings?”

I catch a hint of a sly smile and almost roll my eyes if I weren’t trying not to flush at the idea that The Prince might ask to keep the dress for proper disposal. Which means disrobing in front of him since it doesn’t appear that I am leaving this vehicle looking exactly like what the paparazzi are looking for.

“There is a solution to all this,” he says, pulling up another limo screen for extra privacy.

I send him a pleading look. “My Prince, I know you’re very important. And well loved. And scandal free. And next in line to the throne and have been betrothed since childhood and can’t have this staining your perfect record, but I don’t think murder is the answer.”

The Prince tips his head to the side and laughs. It’s a genuine laugh that catches me off guard, and I’m stuck staring at his face. God, he really is that handsome. It’s a little irritating. And perhaps in another time and place a lot intimidating. But I can’t afford to be cowed when my life is also on the line.

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” he says once he’s recovered.

I try again. “I’m sure there’s a way out of this that doesn’t involve further, uh, involvement between us. You are the prince, I’m sure—“

“Will you marry me?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

I raise my eyes and meet his serious gaze. Not once does he waver, and he’s serious about this. The Crown Prince is insane. “With all due respect, My Prince. No, I will not marry you.”

“Please?”

I blink. “I didn’t realize a prince knew the word ‘please’.”

“I know the word  _ please _ ,” he says, eyes glinting wickedly at me. A shiver of electricity races down my spine and settles lower with the way his cool unhurried gaze sweeps over me. “I have been trained and disciplined to conduct myself in a manner that is befitting of The Imperial Household.”

Of course. Of course, he has. 

He chuckles into the dimly lit interior. “Why the fuck did you have to come out wearing a wedding gown?”

“I didn’t know a prince used the word fuck.”

“Oh, I know the word  _ fuck _ .”

I bite the inside of my cheek and press my lips together to prevent myself from reacting any further to that mischievous smile on his face. But despite my best efforts, I am still at a loss for words, for coherent thought, for…anything.

Slowly, I was dying inside.

Inconvenience. Mortification. A broken bone. Maybe two. Any of those options are still more favourable than marriage, even a fake one. 

Although, technically, what I have is a fake engagement.

With The Crown Prince.

No big deal.

News of the big scandal came out that same morning, splashing the headlines everywhere with photos of my hideous gown and the Prince looking all perfect and princely. Even with the unflattering lighting, he still looked like a posed portrait for a high fashion magazine or a royal portrait. He probably didn’t have a bad angle.

Ugh. The Prince is so irritating.

Since then, I’ve been carted off to an undisclosed location and put under 24/7 surveillance. For my own protection. My own protection, my ass. I’m a prisoner until the Imperial Palace cleans up this mess. If only they listened to me—not that I could even edge in a word during that talk down—all of this could easily have been swept under the rug as a terrible, albeit funny, Halloween misunderstanding.

But, no.

The Prince just had to announce our engagement. Like that makes sense. Like any of this makes sense. I’ve had to report to the office to tell them I’ll be out a few days only to have them answer with their most deepest congratulations. Meanwhile, my parents have been given an all-expense paid trip around Europe while all this is happening. At least they’re safe and guarded from all this, but seriously? This is what the consider damage control?

The ring on my finger is heavy, and I fuss over it until I find the confidence to speak. “My Prince?”

He doesn’t even look up from his desk. “We’ve talked about this. You have permission to call me Younghyun.”

Younghyun is busy with Crown Prince duties—diplomatic missions, foreign policy meetings, and an endless list of responsibilities one after the other. Since our engagement, I haven’t seen him take a break. Even our ‘dates’ are all staged and scheduled—dinners or a night at the theatre watching his friend Wonpil’s piano concertos, helping out at orphanages, or animal shelters. Nothing spontaneous. Never spontaneous. Right now, he is likely to be reviewing the material for his next meeting with that trade union.

And I will have nothing to do but sit here and wait. “If you’re not going to let me work, then there must be something I can do.”

This time he looks up. But only briefly. “Apologies. I understand your work is important to you.”

I took up law and centred my focus on humanitarian aid, but trust the internet to reduce my degree in jurisprudence and my awards in excellence as either a fake or an exaggeration. It doesn’t matter. Or so I convince myself everyday. It’s difficult enough being a woman, even in this modern day and age, with having to prove my right to exist but here we are. Being linked to Younghyun means the fight just got a million times harder.

And when I am the other woman in the narrative, the media is hardly encouraged to paint me in any flattering light. Younghyun’s ex-fiancee, a veritable princess in her own right, is currently hidden away somewhere to recuperate from the tragedy that is me. I wish I could speak to her, somehow apologize for this mess and explain to her that none of this is real, but that will be next to impossible. So I do what I can.

“Important is an understatement,” I tell him. “I didn’t work my ass off just to be benched because of an engagement. Even if it is to you. We’ve talked about it, and I appreciate that you took the time to explain everything to me but there must be something I can do.”

Because my ex-fiance, himself, had somehow deluded himself into thinking I would happily give up my career to be a stay-at-home wife and mother. Why did I ever agree to marry that asshole in the first place? Right. Because I didn’t know his true colors until months into the engagement.

Younghyun pushes himself out of his desk and comes around it to sit at the corner, keeping one Italian leather dress shoe planted firmly on the floor. He raises his palms. “I don’t mean to keep you here.”

“I believe you.” Rationally speaking, this arrangement is to protect us both from the public. Despite the Palace’s extensive PR team, prevention still remains the more prudent strategy. It’s not just The Prince’s reputation and safety that is at stake here.

My safety is, too.

The door to his office swings open and his executive assistant, Hyerim, comes in wearing an impeccable tailored white skirt suit and holding on to her tablet. Younghyun can’t survive a week without her super management skills. She greets me with a polite bow before turning to the prince with the rest of the afternoon’s schedules. When she’s done dictating the rest of the day, she turns to me.

Hyerim is lovely and pleasant and she’s been nothing but kind to me, but she is also super strict and while I appreciate the work ethic, it’s not so fun when my I am robbed of my agency. I have no freedom here, and I value my freedom more than anything. “Your appointment with the designers will follow through as scheduled. Chaeyoung will come and get you.”

“I have clothes,” I weakly answer, gesturing vaguely at my own pale blue skirt suit. It’s designer, even. Granted, it was on a 75% Off sale when I bought it two years ago. “Good ones. Good enough even for foreign dignitaries.”

Hyerim’s smile doesn’t waver. “Good enough for the legal team of a non-government organization. This time you are representing the Imperial Family at a royal gala. I mean you no offense, but from now on you are held to a far different standard than you are used to.”

“Hyerim.” Neither of us miss the censure in Younghyun’s voice.

Hyerim, however, is unfazed. An admirable trait. She knows Younghyun will find it impossible to replace her. “Your Highness, as sole heir, you must understand the weight of the responsibility that is both upon you.”

It’s not just Hyerim who often remarks on Younghyun being a sole heir. His parents find it pertinent to remind him, too. All the time. No pressure.

It seems that everyone wants or needs something from him, and even though most people don’t acknowledge it, the bigger, more essential, role he plays in society is that of a provider and a protector. Even with the Emperor and the Royal Advisers, so much is on Younghyun’s shoulders.

“I will be here.” As an afterthought, I add, “or wherever it is you think it appropriate I should be.”

Hyerim nods at me, the smile on her face still perfect and unmoved. “I appreciate your cooperation. Chaeyoung will discuss your duties with you on the way to the designer.”

Hyerim makes her leave, announcing that she will be waiting at the lobby with the chauffeur to take Younghyun to his next appointment.

“The gala is an obligatory function,” he explains to me even though he doesn’t have to. Everyone knows about the Royal Gala. I’ve been briefed on my role in it as well. It’s not for a couple more months, but the preparations take a good part of the year simply because of honour and tradition. It’s a Really Big Deal.

“Your parents seem to have taken this engagement…far less dramatically than I expected if they’re inviting me for an event this important and months from now.”

Younghyun breathes out a humourless laugh. “That’s because your beloved Emperor and Empress are on a manhunt to find me a bride to further the royal bloodline. This is...merely a setback from their initial plans. An heir will seal the deal. Heirs in the plural is even better. Ascendancy, and all that. Even if it is with...”

He doesn’t have to finish that sentence.

I clasp my hands together above my knees. “How desperate are they that even a commoner will do?”

“You are hardly common.”

My entire being freezes in place at his words. They’re hardly flattering. Barely complimenting. And yet…and yet my cheeks are burning and my breaths are shallow. “You can’t possibly mean to propose marriage to me. Not for real.”

His gaze is dark even in this light, focused and intentional. “I could.”

The plan was to fake an engagement long enough and break up. It’s hardly fair, as Younghyun can easily move on with his life and I will be left to pick up the pieces of my life that’s been trampled all over by people who believe themselves entitled to my narrative. This can ruin me if played wrong. I must find a way to take some control, even just the smallest bit. Because in the end, I will be the only one punished for this.

“You’re a decent guy, but you don’t have to go that far. I’m sure we can negotiate a deal so we both get the least painful outcome. I won’t ask for anything else but peace of mind. I don’t want money or whatever. I’ve already signed a nondisclosure agreement.”

“This situation is unconventional.”

“The word you’re looking for is intolerable.” I can’t help but say it. “You wanted a way out of your betrothal, and that’s fair. You deserve to fall in love for real. But this isn’t how you go about doing it. Even if you are a prince.”

But Younghyun seems to have his mind set on the idea. At least for now. “At best, it would be a marriage of convenience.”

“Right. Even better for me because I get to live a fairy tale.” Despite my protestations, it does appear to be the best possible outcome. But...

His lips quirk in such a subtle manner, I almost miss it if I weren’t looking at his mouth. “The sex would be good at least, I can promise you that.”

I’m hardly a blushing virgin, but even that gives me pause. From a prince, no less. But I push it aside. He’s not serious. I think. “Wouldn’t you want to fall in love?”

“Love is a luxury I can’t afford.”

And that is all the reason I need to know for sure. I have to get out of this. It’s for the good of the both of us.

I’ll be lying if I say the dress fittings don’t excite me. My work with underprivileged children and refugee communities don’t offer much in the way of luxuries, and often I feel a twinge of guilt when I give in to buying myself an expensive dress but I just can’t help it. Being fussed over and draped in silks and satins does have its thrills. I like looking nice. Presentable. But often that means dressing appropriately in order to be taken seriously. It’s hardly fair, but it’s the life I live.

Unlike the previous fittings, this time Younghyun comes with me. Leaving Sungjin behind, we enter through the back of a warehouse, through a nondescript door with metal grates, through a narrow hallway that opens up to a wide industrial space set up as a photography studio. I blindly follow Younghyun through and up the stairs into a room.

Inside, it’s luxurious and modern with plush sofas and valet mannequins and the most beautiful gowns and dresses I’ve ever seen in my life. Attendants approach us immediately and seat us, offering us champagne and sugar cookies. This is the first time I’m fitting with this designer, and I can’t help but wonder how many women Younghyun has brought here.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“This really is a beautiful one,” Madame Hong says, assessing me from head to toe. As soon as she arrived, she pulled me on top of a small platform. “This is for the Royal Gala, yes?”

She’s wrong. I’m not beautiful in the conventional sense of it. I’ve come to terms with my skin not flawlessly porcelain, that my hands have been work hewn and cracked, and that the most I indulge in is the bare minimum of skin care before I sleep at night. Neither am I petite or soft-spoken. If you sit me side by side with the movie stars and the idols, I’ll only look frumpy and pathetic. I will never outlive the comparison with the woman Younghyun was meant to marry, and next to her I am but a speck of dust and I will accept it. But don’t get me wrong. I like the person that I am. I hate that I still think this way sometimes, but I know I’m not terrible looking. I suppose in that sense, I’m just like all the other girls.

“The coat, it comes off,” Madame Hong says to me. “Everything must come off for a proper fitting.”

My eyes fly toward Younghyun, lounging like the prince he is on the sofa. The command also catches him off guard, as much as it can someone as controlled as he. His ears are red and he is pointedly not looking in my direction. An attendant hands me a silver silk robe, and she helps me out of my coat, my button-down, and my twill skirt. I keep my amusement to myself, mostly. Madame Hong gives me a knowing look, teasing as it is encouraging.

“Clothes make all the difference,” she says to me with a wink.

Younghyun is nothing like I thought he might be. I haven’t given him much thought until I met him, but he still finds ways to surprise me. He’s a good person, underneath the weight of the crown and the responsibilities. He’s just a boy, desperately wanting to make his parents proud.

I look at him from over my shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re free tonight.”

It takes a beat, but a composed Younghyun turns to me even as Madame Hong is measuring me. “Jae cancelled on me.”

Jae is a son from one of the Royal Houses. He recently returned from studying in the United States and as far as I’ve heard, Jae currently has no designs on any of his royal duties. Including being Younghyun’s second.

“I suppose I have Jae to thank. Forgive me, I know he’s your closest friend and you haven’t seen each other casually in a while, but it’s seldom that I see you at leisure.”

Heat sparks in his eyes when he raises his flute of champagne at me. It’s the same spark that sets the backs of my ears ablaze when he looks at me too long or too closely. His graze takes the slow path down to my bare feet and even slower back up following the lines of my calves, my hips, my waist, and the curve of my back and up again. My reflection does not hide my reaction. I flush all the way down to my chest.

Madame Hong clears her throat and mutters something about forgetting her portfolio in the other room, and her attendants follow her out. As soon as the door clicks to a close, Younghyun rises from his seat and makes his way to me in a fluid grace that could be dangerous but I’m not afraid.

“You’re a tease.” His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I lean into him, trusting him completely. In his eyes is a spectrum of emotions. Curiosity. Frustration. More. Younghyun and I are barely alone, and perhaps in our pretence it did not matter. But in the small moments that it’s just him and me, there’s an electricity that pounds in my ears. I know he feels it too. I see the way he looks at me when we’re in the limo and all the screens are up. It’s nothing compared to the way he’s looking at me now.

His gaze settles on my lips.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

Younghyun raises his eyes to meet mine. “That I should like to take you home tonight, if you let me. I have every intention of taking you to my bed and keeping you there all night. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this way since the day I met you.”

“But?” But none of this is real. Those conversations in his car, Younghyun looking off to the distance as he told me about his parents, about what keeps him up at night, about the things he would like to do had he been a different man, all of that doesn’t count. Not really.

“But this, you and I, it can’t have anything to do with this.” He lifts my right hand and thumbs the engagement ring. “What we want from each other tonight can’t have anything to do with the engagement.”

“I understand that.” And I do. And he’s right. “You and me,” I whisper. Suddenly I’m desperate for his hands on my skin and his mouth on my mouth.

“We’re leaving.” He releases me excruciatingly slow, rings the bell for Madame Hong, and then we’re off.

Neither of us says a word on the drive back to his suite. Younghyun stays his usual distance from me as we take the exclusive elevator up to the penthouse, but I can sense his impatience as I’m battling with mine. But when we get to the door, he sets a hand at my waist and pushes me back against the frame.

He curses against the skin of my neck as he leans down and to press his nose at the side of my throat. “Say it again.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I want this.”

We skip the preliminaries. I’ve thought about this, of course, late at night and alone in my bed. It’s always good between us because everything else about our relationship, fake or otherwise, has been easy. But I can’t have predicted the way Younghyun’s first kiss is greedy and hot, smouldering against my lips. Every other first kiss I’ve had has always been gentle, tentative—Is this okay? Do you want more?—but Younghyun is already bringing himself closer, a little clumsy as he searches my mouth at the same time he’s trying to get his door open.

When finally the door gives, I quickly wrap my arms tight around his neck, one of my legs struggle to wrap around him, and he literally sweeps me off my feet so that he could carry me inside. Our kisses remain frantic and bumpy, nothing at all like the cool and composed prince Younghyun is.

The kiss feels like it goes on forever, and Younghyun feels like he’s coming closer and closer into me, holding me tight against him the heat of our bodies just might burn our clothes off. The hardness beneath his trousers and against my thigh connects to the space that exists in between my legs, and I feel wet and empty because of all the layers still between us. I reach up and tangle my fingers in his glorious, dark hair, and tug and pull in an attempt to tell him what I want.

Then my back is on the bed, and Younghyun a world above me, is falling apart and raw I have to close my eyes for a second to catch my breath.

“Still with me?” he breathes.

“Yes.” I tug at the lapels of his coat. “Off.”

Younghyun disentangles himself from his coat and before I can put my hands to work on the buttons of his shirt, he flips me around and unbuttons and unzips my pencil skirt, peeling it off my legs and tossing it aside.

“Off,” he says, tugging at my top at the same time his other hand reaches for his own buttons and nearly tearing his shirt off. I’ll help, but I’m too busy, splaying my hands on his hot skin, arching up so he can remove my top but also so I can open my mouth against his shoulder, taste his salty skin. “Fuck. Get your clothes off.”

His words bring me back to myself, and I take over, tugging my top off before pausing. Younghyun stops biting and licking at my collarbone long enough to look at me. “What is it?”

“Condoms.”

“I’ve got that covered.” He bends down again, sucks at the junction between my neck and shoulder. “Just please get naked now.”

Even with the growly way he’s commanded me, I can’t help but laugh. Younghyun sounds like he’ll expire if we stop now and he doesn’t get what he wants. All his calm is stripped away, and I like this Younghyun. I like the way he is with me. When he’s just himself without a care in the world. I treasure these small moments and hold them close to my heart.

It’s a little funny and a little messy, the way our clothes come off. There’s pulling and tugging and limbs tangling and more whispered curses because somehow we’ve forgotten to take off our shoes first. Younghyun is laughing, and I would give anything to keep hearing him laugh like this.

There is no awkwardness when we’re finally bare to each other. Younghyun takes a minute to collect the condoms from his drawer and I take a minute to take off the ring and put it right on the nightstand. Younghyun arches his brow when he sees me do this.

“Because this has nothing to do with that.”

We don’t wait any longer. We skip the other preliminaries, make a silent promise to get to them later. After. It hits me, as he presses his long body against mine, how much I want this. How much I’ve been wanting him. I lift my hips to him, and he’s there. He’s there, slowly at first and then he thrusts inside in the most perfect way it knocks the breath from my lungs.

I am lost to him.

But at the same time, I’ve never felt this connected before.

This feels like all the sensations it should be, but more. So much more.

And more than that, this feels dangerously close to feeling like something real.

At the stroke of midnight, I take Younghyun aside as soon as I get my opportunity. It hasn’t been easy with Jae and Wonpil, and Wonpil’s bodyguard Dowoon keeping us company for the night. At least Sungjin knows to keep his distance and always observes from the shadows. The gala is over, but the night hardly is.

“What is it?” Younghyun laughs, catching me by the waist and pressing his nose against my shoulder. “Naughty girl, we’ll get caught out here, is that what you want?”

The courtyard outside the theatre is dark and quiet save for the sound of the Autumn wind around us. I take a breath. The leaves crunch under our feet, and the wind stings my cheeks. “I can’t do this anymore, Younghyun.”

He releases me and falls a step back, and I feel the chill at the loss of his touch. “What are you talking about?”

I think about the way he looked at me the night after we met with the refugees of a war torn country. About the way he laughed, playing football with the orphans, the way he studied sign language just so he could communicate with the students at the specialised school he built for them. I think about the way he reported back to his parents, and the way he was so desperate for their approval. I think of all these things to give me strength to break his heart.

I take off the ring from my finger. “I can’t do this anymore, Younghyun.”

I thought I’d be grateful for the dimness of the light, but even now I can see the hurt on his face. Light reflects off the unshed tears in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“You deserve to fall in love,” I say. “Have the life you want. Not like this. Not with me because I wore a silly wedding gown the night you met me and everyone took it the wrong way.”

Younghyun chuckles under his breath. “It was a hideous gown, you’ve rendered me speechless at the sight of you. You think this isn’t the life I want?”

I have an entire speech prepared in my head, but my mouth is filled with cotton and my mind is blank. My eyes fall to my dress, at the sky blue falls of the skirt cascading down like a waterfall. “I want my life back.”

Younghyun’s face is in deep shadow, but his voice is clear. “I am going to marry you.”

The frank, honest words tear the ground from beneath me, and my racing heart begins to thunder, so loud in my ears I am certain he can hear it. “You what?” I ask, desperate to hear the words again, hoping against hope for the truth.

“I am going to marry you.” He says the words so firmly, so certainly, there is no room to question if he’s suddenly hit his head somewhere. “If you say yes.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

I shake my head. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” he says so simply. “If you wish your life back, then you will have it. If you wish to truly leave me, then you are free to do so. But I will lay my intentions clear. I want you in my life. And I think you want the same.”

I can’t think. How is anyone supposed to think clearly in this situation?

Younghyun takes the ring from my hand and goes down on one knee. “My love, will you…”

I hold my breath. A squeak escapes me anyway.

“…keep pretending to be my fiancee? Because I would like to date you. For real, this time.”

“I—“

“I know it’s been difficult. I’m sorry I can’t make it easier. Maybe this is selfish of me, but I will do everything in my power to protect you. What good is being a prince if I can’t give you what you want?”

“I can’t…”

“You can.”

I can refuse. He’s given me that power. Younghyun has given me more. To refuse...I can do that, but why would I want to?

“Stay,” Younghyun pleads. “Stay with me.”

I’ve been left at the altar before, but this isn’t the same man. “Please don’t make me wear a hideous dress ever.”

“Never,” he laughs. “I’ll get you all the most beautiful dresses that you want.”

I reach forward to lift him up to his feet. “Then I am yours.”

He presses a soft kiss on my lips. “As you are mine.”


End file.
